Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
The Hard Way
Jameson Sinclair
The joy I got from Marigold’s texts was quickly stifled when I read Paisley’s. She never texts me outside of the paper’s group chat, so I suspected something was wrong before I even opened the thread.
Paisley: Look, I know we’re not friends. And supposedly neither are you and Marigold. But I’m worried about her. I found her crying in the newsroom.
Paisley: She felt warm and said she had a headache, but I’m not sure what to believe. She won’t leave until she’s done working.
“You good?” Nash asks from across from me.
The entire team came to the diner after the event. Some of the kids are here with their parents too. We’ve packed out the place and just put in our orders, so it’s likely to be a while.
“Paisley texted and said Marigold isn’t doing well. She might be sick,” I tell him. “I think I should go check on her.”
A part of me wonders if me leaving the copy of Julius Caesar upset her enough to cry, but the timestamps don’t add up.
I checked Marigold’s text first, but Paisley’s actually came in before hers.
So Marigold must have texted me after their conversation.
And she would have already found the paperback.
“I can get our waitress and cancel your order if you want to leave now,” Nash offers.
I hesitate. I’ve been so careful with Marigold lately. I don’t want to try to help only to make things worse.
“I don’t know,” I say when Nash gives me an expectant look. “It might be best if I let Paisley handle things.”
“Does Paisley know Marigold as well as you?” Nash counters.
No. It might be cocky to think, but no one knows her as well as me. I could probably look at her and know what’s wrong. I’m a little afraid of what the answer will be, though.
“Okay, I guess I’ll go.”
I stand up and double-check that my wallet is in my back pocket. There are no keys to feel for, because we all rode the bus from campus. I’ll have to walk back. My knee is already protesting the idea after a few hours of teaching and training, but it’s not too far. I’ll survive.
Nash grins. “Good! I’ll take care of your order. Let me know if I can bring her anything if she is sick.”
“Thanks,” I say, and hope my tone conveys my gratitude.
Though I was hesitant when we first met given how different we are, I’m starting to see that Nash is a good friend to have. He cares and isn’t afraid to show it, even if he does so in unique ways sometimes.
“Anytime.” His smile morphs into a smirk. “Tell Paisley her dream man says hi.”
I laugh as I push my chair back into the table.
“Will she know I mean you?”
“That’s what I’m hoping to find out,” Nash replies with a wink. “You can tell Red I hope she feels better, though you better leave off the dream man part. Might confuse her feelings.”
I shake my head, laughing as I walk off. Thankfully everyone is so distracted with their conversations that no one stops me to question what I’m doing. Once I’m out of the restaurant, I open the text thread with Paisley.
Jameson: I’m on my way, though it might take me a little while to get there. Did she say anything else?
A few minutes after I hit send, my phone rings and Paisley’s name pops up.
“Hello?” I answer.
“She looks like a painting of a sick Victorian child,” Paisley whispers into the phone. “I tried to tell her I was worried about her, but she won’t hear any of it. She just keeps saying she’s fine.”
Paisley might be overexaggerating with her descriptions, but I can tell that she means the sentiment behind them.
Marigold is not okay. She hasn’t been for a while, even before we stopped being friends.
I’ve noticed the pattern of self-destruction and even tried to talk to her about it, but she always managed to shift the topic to something else.
I did my best to take care of her while waiting for her to open up, but it became more difficult to do that once the internship happened.
“Can you leave the newsroom right now to grab a few things?” I ask Paisley. “I can send you the cash for everything.”
The cars to my left stop, and I look to the right before jogging across the street. This walk is already feeling a lot longer than I remembered. I’m going to pay for this tomorrow, but it’s worth it.
“I’m her friend too. I can contribute,” Paisley replies defensively. “What do I need to get? A horse tranquilizer?"
I snort. “That would be helpful for what I’m planning, but no. Could you go to the nearest store and get a weighted blanket and some snacks? I’m going to order some food to be delivered to her place, but she might need more.”
“What are her favorites?” Paisley asks. “All she ever talks to me about is coffee and pastries.”
“Pastries are fine if you want to stop by a bakery too. She also likes salted caramel chocolate bars. Definitely no coffee or anything caffeinated.”
“Okay, done and done. And what are you planning? So I know what I’m getting into and how much she’s going to hate me.”
I stop at another street corner and stretch my knee with a wince.
“We’re going to load her up with carbs, cover her with a weighted blanket, and have you and her roommates, if they’re there, make sure she doesn’t touch her laptop until she gets a few hours of sleep.”
I’ve done something similar in the past around finals week. Marigold wasn’t happy then, and she definitely won’t be now, but she’ll get over it.
“And how do you plan to get her to go back to her dorm? She told me she would, but I suspect she lied.”
“I’ll take care of that,” I reply with a smirk. “Just meet me at her place with everything.”
Paisley laughs. “Your tone concerns me, but Marigold’s well-being concerns me more. I’ll see you there.”
We hang up, and I place a call to a nearby Italian restaurant and order spinach-and-ricotta ravioli, along with a basket of garlic breadsticks. After that, I focus on getting to the newsroom as fast as I can without making my knee feel like it’s on fire.
When I finally make it there, I’m worried the next part of my plan will be more difficult than I thought given the state of my knee. Coach is going to kill me if I have to sit out next game. I’ll ice it later tonight and hope for a fast recovery.
I walk into the newsroom and over to Marigold’s desk. Her hair is up in the Miss Perkins style again, and I can tell with one look that Paisley was right to be worried. The dark circles around her eyes make them look almost hollow, and she seems to be barely there even as she types at hyperspeed.
“Goldie,” I rasp, and her head snaps up.
“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming?”
“Paisley said you weren’t feeling well.” I decide it’s best to out Paisley early, since she’ll be a part of the plan later. “So I came to get you to go rest.”
Marigold turns to glare at Paisley, who isn’t at her desk. She huffs.
“I told her I’m fine. It’s just a headache.”
I shake my head. “You know that lie won’t get past me.”
She shifts her glare to me.
“I need to focus. Go back to whatever you were doing before.”
“If you don’t let me walk you back, I’m going to pick you up and carry you myself,” I threaten.
She laughs. “You wouldn’t.”
I raise a brow. “Try me.”
Her eyes roll. She starts typing again with extra force as if she’s proving a point.
“You always did like to do things the hard way,” I say as I walk around her desk.
I pick up her messenger bag off the floor and hang the strap on my shoulder. She looks up at me with an annoyed expression.
“What—”
Her question turns into a startled gasp when I bend down and haul her over my other shoulder.